


Kiss It Better

by YAJJ



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Car Wreck, Foster Family, Gen, Madam Christmas' girls, One Shot Collection, aromantic Chris Mustang, family fic, tags will be added as chapters are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YAJJ/pseuds/YAJJ
Summary: Madam Christmas may not have been your average mother, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any suggestions for chapters, please let me know! I'm open to any suggestions, although they may be denied or interpreted at my discretion.

Chris was never meant for motherhood. That, she knew for a fact. God, be she Ishvala, Leto, or whomever, had not crafted Chris in the same mold that she did many other women. 

She could barely handle aunthood.

“Hold his  _ head,  _ Chris!” said her brother, Arlan, a portly man with a head of dark hair. He took her elbow and situated it just beneath the head of the infant in her arms. 

The baby giggled in delight and reached his toes up as far as he could. His little fingers were stretching toward her face, and it was all she could do to not take her face away and keep tiny grubby fingers from her. 

“How old is he now?” Chris asked, if only to keep up conversation. The baby was all the new parents could talk about of late. Chris hadn’t minded  _ at first _ , but it quickly got overwhelming. She was just glad that they had been so busy with parenthood that they weren’t calling her up at all hours anymore to talk about him.

“Our Roy-boy is nearly two months,” Arlan went on, “and he’s got my strapping chin to prove it!”

Chris looked down to the baby in her arms and found that she would disagree. Roy’s face was as round as a playball.

He stuck his tongue out and breathed hard, blowing spittle around. Chris  _ did _ take her face away then, although she was sure a few specks hit her chin anyway. 

“Roy…” said the boy’s mother, Jiao, who went forward with a handkerchief and wiped off his chin. Jiao came directly from Xing, though Chris could never remember which clan. She met Arlan on a trip to Amestris and just… never went home. It was love at first sight. Chris hardly believed in love at first sight but, by some twist of fate, it worked for the couple. They had been together for nearly five years and had been living together almost all of that time. 

“Isn’t he a beauty?” Arlan went on, chattering as he always did when he was excited. “Takes just after my beautiful Jiao, so I know he’ll be a lady-killer.”

Chris snorted. She didn’t find babies particularly  _ cute _ . Newborns certainly weren’t; at least this boy had grown into his skin. 

But she didn’t dare say so to the happy parents aloud. “Yeah, he’s a cutie.”

Jiao suddenly cooed and went for her baby, pulling him into her arms and smattering his face with kisses. “We wondered if he would want to spend a weekend with you,” she said, with a hopeful little smile. 

Chris and Jiao didn’t really agree on a few things.  It wasn’t that they didn’t get along; Chris found her stories of her homeland fascinating. Unlike her brother, Chris wasn’t much of a nationalist, and found hearing about other countries far more interesting than hearing about her own. Their opinions just often differed and clashed.

There was one thing, though, that Chris did like about Jiao. She was to the point. If she wanted something from you, she asked it. Chris was the same way, so she could respect it.

“I live in a bar,” she reminded the young mother. That, and she was useless when it came to children, let alone infants. “I wouldn’t be able to be with him, I’m afraid.”

Jiao’s hopeful smile fell to something less pleased, but Arlan just laughed and patted her back. 

“There’s a reason Chris isn’t married yet, Jiao. Maybe give it a few years.”

Chris frowned and shot him a withering glance. She wasn’t married  _ by choice _ . She had no interest in marriage. She could hardly take care of herself, let alone do the womanly part of the marriage for her husband, and she had no desire to act the traditional wife’s part. 

Finally, Jiao laughed a little and smiled, bouncing her baby boy. “I get it,” she said. “Kids are tough. I hope some day he gets to spend some time with you.”

Chris smiled gently at her, a little nervous at the thought. Unless Roy was ten or more, she doubted that she would be any good with him. “Maybe someday.”

* * *

 

Chris nursed a brandy, seated at the bar. She kneaded her temples tiredly, leaning her elbow onto the bar and her face into her hand. 

She thought she had aged ten years in three days. And she didn’t even have the kid yet. 

“Chris?” asked Jess, her most experienced girl. Chris had only gotten the bar less than a year ago, and could use every bit of help she could get. 

“I can’t do this,” she admitted quietly. “I can’t. I’m not a mother. I really can’t.”

“He isn’t even here yet,” Jess hummed, crossing her arms in front of her. “You can’t blow him off before he’s even here.”

“I can’t. Look at this. I live where I work. You can’t raise a child like that.”

“Who says you can’t?” Jess countered. “You were fine with it a week ago.”

“I only found  _ out _ a week ago!” Chris rounded on her, eyes flaring. She didn’t like what Jess was trying to do to her nerves. She knew her fears were irrational, knew they were unnecessary, but surprise surprise, that was no help. “I’m just… I’m not a mother.”

Jess put on a little frown. She pulled out the stool beside Chris and sat in it, taking Chris’ shoulder. “Well, okay. It doesn’t work out. What happens then? What’s option B? You have until you sign those papers. Until then, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”

Chris turned a heavy gaze on Jess, who was watching her steadily. Jess, and most of Jess’ life, had been the byproduct of insincerity and failing commitment. Very little meant more to her than sticking to your word. 

What she was really saying was, “if you agree to do this, you stick with it until the end. No cutting out in the middle because it got hard.”

...And, she wouldn’t do that. Her brother had been family, and that was that. Family didn’t let down family. 

“...Yeah.”

“You have two more hours to get used to the idea,” Jess reminded gently. She squeezed Chris’ shoulder again, leaning her face a little closer, “and you  _ won’t _ be alone.”

Again, Chris nodded. She knocked back another swig and blew out a low breath, then stood. “I’m stepping out for a smoke. Watch the place?”

Jess smiled a little, clearly pleased. She knew Chris too well. Chris could smoke through a pack in a day seated in one place if no one got in her way. She didn’t mind the scent of the smoke or the heaviness in the air or the way that it hung around for hours in the bar.

No, when she stepped out to smoke, it meant she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She wanted her own, unbiased opinion. She had so many things to think about. Like planning the funeral for Arlan and Jiao.

They had been cut down in the prime of life, by a drunk, who chose to climb behind the wheel of a car they didn’t know how to drive. They had been on their way home from something as mundane as the grocery store. A run of the mill, day-to-day activity. Their son had been in the backseat, with the groceries, when it all happened. 

Apparently, when he’d been pulled out of the wreckage, arm broken, covered in blood, pried from his mother’s arms, he had been covered in cracked eggs. Jiao appeared to have leapt into the backseat to make sure he was alright, knocking over one of the bags, and ended up bleeding out over him. 

He had been sent to the hospital, and had been there for the past week. Chris had been informed that, since she was next of kin, she would be getting him until they could find a more suitable place, and had spent the past week getting accustomed to the idea.

Now, the kid was two hours away from being there, escorted by another police officer, and only now Chris was panicking. 

Chris wasn’t a mother. She and Jiao weren’t cast in the same mold. She wasn’t a comforter, and she wasn’t a nurturer, and she feared that the kid would need exactly that. 

...But, Jess had a point. Most of her girls lived at the bar with her so, if nothing else, she’d have their assistance. 

And she couldn’t abandon her family. Arlan wasn’t always her favorite person, but in many ways he had been her best friend. She had met the kid once as an infant, and now… now she would be doing more than meeting him. 

She didn’t need anymore time. She had the support of her girls, and the blessing of his parents. She was taking this kid in, signing those papers, and… becoming his foster mother. Until he didn’t need her anymore.

She smoked her cigarette to the butt and stood outside in the afternoon sun. She was glad she had shut down the bar for the day, in preparation for their visitor. She didn’t have the energy or the sense to prepare the bar for service tonight. She could certainly use a drink, but that could wait until after the kid was settled in his room. 

Chris took one last puff of her cigarette and flicked the butt away, then decided to head inside and pick up the dining room a little. Cleaning had been finished from the night before, but it would be good for the kid to be introduced to a better-than-acceptable home and get comfortable.

Four of her girls soon joined her, cleaning up the bar and sitting area and polishing glasses. She appreciated their silent support, their unspoken promise to stay. These girls were like family to her, as much as Arlan and Jiao were. As much as the kid was.

Two hours passed by sooner than she expected, and soon there was the sound of a car pulling up to the bar. Chris took a huge breath and released it in choppy portions. Her life was two minutes from changing forever. 

There was a knock at the door, and one of her younger girls, Juno, flashed a glance at Chris and then headed to the door. She flipped the lock and opened the door, changing the rest of Chris’ life with no hesitation. 

Officer Barron stepped in first. Chris knew him personally, for many reasons. He was one of the officers that patrolled this area and regular stepped in to “make sure that she was alright”. She knew, though, that his inquiry was not genuine. What he really searched for was a reason to shut the entire establishment down. 

Though that was true, he also stopped in three nights a week to share a bed with one of her girls. She didn’t much like him, because he was a terrible hypocrite, and she hated hypocrites. Hated the way that they lied, hated the way that they walked around with their noses up, like they were better than everyone else. Chris may not run the most honest, lawful establishment in Central City, but at least she was up front about it. 

All she knew was that Barron visited here the way he did in self-centered ways. Whether he visited at night to gather evidence not as easily found in the day, or visited in the day to keep this establishment open for his thrice-weekly ritual, he was selfish about it either way.

...Still. Though his eyes roamed all around the room, eyed all the girls, and though hard eyes landed on Chris, he didn’t appear to be looking for evidence for once. 

“Mustang,” Barron grunted.

“Barron,” Chris snapped back, crossing her arms over his chest. 

He took a few steps in, then turned to the side. He carried a big black plastic bag over one shoulder, but was careful to keep it high.

Behind the officer, tucked in his shadow, there was a tiny figure, hugging itself. When Barron stepped to the side, he revealed the shape of a little boy. 

“Come on, Roy,” Barron grunted, reaching his free hand back to push the kid forward by his head. The boy stumbled a little, then came to a stop just a step in front of Barron. 

This was Chris’ little nephew, the orphan. His right arm was braced in a cast, and he was leaning heavily on his left side. His head was so low that his chin brushed his chest. He didn’t lift his head and he didn’t lift his eyes, didn’t even speak a word. 

Barron dropped the bag to the floor and shoved it to the side. He put his hand on Roy’s back and pushed him again, a little harsher. Roy tripped over his little feet but managed to keep his footing. His right knee bent a little, standing on his toes. Something in the accident must have messed with his ankle, judging by the way he walked. 

“Go on, Roy,” Barron said, voice a little snappish, a little impatient. His voice carried the undertone of a commander; he clearly didn’t know how to speak to a child. 

Not that Chris did, of course. Maybe in this case, she was the hypocrite. 

Roy flinched from his voice, then took a few more steps forward, limping lightly. He appeared to be waiting for permission for… something. More than anything, he seemed impossibly lost in a dining room no bigger than forty feet across.

Finally, after what felt like twenty minutes of silence, it was Jess who worked up the courage to come forward. She had two little sisters, only a little older than Roy, that she went to visit some weekends, so she at least knew how to talk to kids. 

She moved forward and crouched in front of him, getting so low they were nearly eye level. Roy still didn’t lift his head, even seemed to turn his head away from her. “Hi,” Jess finally said, resting her hands on her knees. “You must be Roy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Roy turned his head back in Jess’ general direction. He didn’t lift his eyes, still stared at his feet. Very, very quietly, almost as silent as a ghost, he mumbled, “you’re not my aunt.”

Jess smiled a little, tilting her head to try and get into his line of vision. “No, but she and I are good friends. My name is Jess. I think you’re gonna like it here, Roy.”

Roy made a small noise with his mouth, but made no move and no other noise. 

Jess smiled and let out an affectionate little laugh. “Come in, little one. Come meet the other girls.” She stood and reached for Roy’s good hand, prying it from his shirt. She pulled him forward until he stood right before his aunt.

Behind them, Barron exchanged a word with Juno, then stepped out and closed the door behind him, leaving the big black bag, what must have been all of Roy’s things, behind.

Jess dropped Roy’s hand and stepped to the side. His hand returned to his shirt sleeve, knotting it in his fingertips. 

After another moment, Roy finally lifted his head just a little, just enough to get an eyeful of the force of a woman before him. Very quietly, he opened his mouth and mumbled, “the of-ficer said you’re my aunt.”

“I am,” Chris agreed, feeling a little catch in her throat. “You can call me Aunt Chris, or Madam.”

“I don’t know you.”

Chris nodded a little and took a step closer. “I met you once, but you were too young to remember.”

“Daddy talked about you, though.”

“Good things, I hope.”

Roy shrugged, but Chris had a feeling that it wasn’t because Arlan had ever had something vastly negative to say. He started quaking a little, his cast jostling, and Chris could feel emotion rolling off him. He was scared, lonely, lost, and hurt, in a place he had never been and with people he had never met. And the two people in the world who could help him, the two people who loved him unconditionally, had died right in front of him. 

Chris’ throat closed up for a second and she forced herself to turn away from the sight of a grieving child. She wasn’t terribly emotional, but this child’s parents—her brother and sister-in-law—had died only a week ago, and part of her struggled with that thought. 

“I’m sorry about your parents, kid.”

A sudden hiccup left Roy’s mouth, and he lifted his good hand to press against his face. He started jerking and shaking, sobs leaving his mouth, as if everything that happened was coming down on him at once. 

And Chris, who was no good with kids, who hadn’t dealt with anyone younger than eighteen since she had met Roy that first time five years ago, who was no good with her own emotions, Chris did nothing. 

After a full moment of watching this child break down in front of them, finally did Mia stride forward and crouch in front of him. She introduced herself so he had a name to his comforter, then asked if she could pick him up. After a second, Roy nodded his head in a way that could almost be disguised as a quake from his grief, so Mia scooped him up and held him close, fitting her knee beneath his rump to get him higher against her. His good arm went around her neck, his bad arm fell to his side, and his head fell into her shoulder. Mia bounced him for a second, then turned to her boss for direction. 

“Bring him upstairs,” Chris said, jerking her head in the general direction of the stairs. They had a room set aside for him, the one nearest to Chris’, with a little bed and dresser ready for him. 

Mia dipped her head, rubbed his back, and took off for the stairs. 

With the sobbing boy gone, the tension disappeared at once. Juno came over and shared a word with Chris, mentioning something about paperwork that Chris hoped Jess would remember, then she went toward the living room. 

The last girl, her chef Dyna, dipped her head in Chris’ direction and stepped out. She was one of the few girls who had a place offsite, and she had a dog at home, so Chris didn’t mind when she left a little early.

“...So?” asked Jess after just a second, eyeing Chris. 

“...We’ll keep him,” Chris said gently. She lifted her bejewelled hands and pressed one against smarting eyes, then took a heavy breath. “We’ll keep him. He has a… a home here. He’s one of us now.”

Jess pursed her lips, but the way her corners tilted up told Chris that she was fighting off a massive smile, which put a little warmth in her heart. Jess nodded and headed upstairs, leaving Chris to her thoughts. Chris sat back against the bar and pulled out another cigarette, giving Roy the time to calm down and become somewhat accustomed to his newest surroundings.

* * *

 

Several hours later, Chris retired upstairs. In the time between, she had taken the bag of Roy’s belongings downstairs. She washed and dried the clothes, and cracked open the three books he had brought with. The only other thing in that bag, besides a pair of boots, was a little stuffed rabbit with blood on its right arm. She did her best to clean it, but the poor rabbit would spend the rest of its life a little pink. 

She carried the rabbit on one arm, and a fresh set of pajamas for him on the other. She wanted to check on him before going to bed, hoping that his stuffed rabbit would help him sleep through the night. 

She cracked his door open without announcing her arrival. Mia had gone off to bed a while ago, saying that Roy asked that she leave him alone. He was suffering, she said, and felt he had no one. Chris could hardly blame him. 

The bed was in the far corner, about three feet from a window. Despite the soft moonlight spilling in, Roy was turned away from it on his side. Judging by his shaky breath, Roy was not sleeping. 

Chris quietly crept toward him and leaned over him. Indeed, his eyes didn’t appear to be closed, and he didn’t even look like he was trying to sleep. He just stared ahead at the plain wall, silent, shaking. 

“Get up, Roy,” she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Get changed.”

Roy sniffed hard and turned his head a little to look at her. Now that she got a good look at his face, she saw that his injuries did not end at a gimpy ankle and a broken arm. There was a healing cut running down the side of his face, by his right eye, and another above his left brow. A bandage was taped onto his right cheek as well, but she couldn’t see what was going on beneath. 

He eyed her, then very slowly sat up, wincing a little when he put strain on his arm. Chris helped him change without a word, then carefully led him back down into the bed and brought his blanket up to his shoulders. 

“I w-want my Mama and Daddy,” Roy finally said with a shaking breath. When Chris passed him his rabbit, he buried his nose in it and started shaking against it. 

Chris turned her head away when tears returned to his voice and his face. She patted his shoulder and, not knowing what else she was to say, she simply assured, “I know. Good night, Roy.”

And she, who was no good with kids and no good with emotions, who had just become this orphan boy’s foster mother, she walked away to rest up for a new day. Before she closed the door behind her, Roy breathed out a shaking breath, and seemed to fall quiet. She didn’t know if he fell asleep, or if he decided he was done crying, but whatever it was, Chris thought it would be good for him.

This was sure to present a lot of… interesting challenges in the future, but Arlan was her brother and Roy was her nephew. They were family, and you did not give up on family. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and like I said, let me know if you have any suggestions!! Drop me a comment, it's always appreciated, and have a great day!!


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